MY DREAMS 




Class __ PS i5dX 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



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John Mathkk Doi.i'h 






Copyright, 1911, 

by 

Bertha D. Gumaer 



©C1.A28915G 





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To Mr. and Mrs. J. M. Wilson 
In loving sympathy 


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SIT and dream in the twilioht. 
When the work of the day is 
done, 

And my friends all gather round me 
And I greet them one bv one. 



Some are the friends of my childhood, 
Who now are wrinkled and gray, 

But the faces I see in my dreaming. 
Are the faces of children at play. 



No taint of the world's pollution, 
No traces of evil are there, 

For all of the friends of my dreaming 
Are free from all sorrow and care. 



Mv BreanwJ 



Some are the friends of my boyhood. 
Whom I loved in the long ago. 

But I see not the men of the present. 
But the boys whom I used to know. 

There is one, the possessor of millions. 
And his face is lined with care. 

But the face I see in my dreaming 
Is a boyish face and fair. 

And some are my friends of the present. 
The friends whom I meet day by day. 

But their faces show only their goodness 
And the evil has slipped away. 

And one is a winsome maiden 
With a wealth of sunny hair. 

Her heart was loving and tender 
And her face divinely fair. 

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Mp ©reams; 



But a mother's fond devotion 
And a father's love and home. 

Were ties top slender to hold her 
When the Master bad€ her " Come." 

So the angel came and took her 

Away from her home below, 
And the chorus of Heaven is richer 

Because of the loss, we know. 

We know that she waits our coming. 
Where the '*Many Mansions" be. 

And the face I see in my dreaming 
Is the face that the angels see. 

So I love to dream in the twilight. 
When the work of the day is done, 

And the friends who gather round me 
Are spotless every one. 

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JMp ©reams; 



iVnd when life's twilight is ended 
And I go to my bed to rest, 

May I greet all these dreamland faces 
In Heaven among the blest. 



€tt ^cat of Hcarnins 

IHE seat of learning, so 't is said, 
Is always stationed in the head, 
But classic lore and letters too, 
Combine to make the stockings blue, 
And knowledge, by the slipper taught, 

Finds lodgment in another spot; 

So learning's seat, 't is plainly seen, 

Lies at both ends and in between. 





To my Niece, Miss Hazel Mills Dolph 

■ ■ ■ 

YES that have looked into mine as a 
child. 

Eyes that reflected the Heaven's 
own blue, 

Eyes of my mother so gentle and mild. 
Eyes that were loving and tender and true. 



Eyes that have looked into mine as a man, 
Eyes with the modest wood violet's hue. 

Eyes of my wife, which with love overran 
Filling my heart with a joy ever new. 



Eyes that have looked into mine day by day, 
As my Summer has passed and Winter come on, 

Eyes of my children, whose love lights the way, 
Left lonely and sad by the eyes that are gone. 

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iWp ©reams; 



Eyes that now lovingly look into mine, 

Thine eyes, that are dark as the plumes of the 
night, 
God grant that happiness ever may shine, 

In the eyes that are dark and the eyes that are 
light. 



It is not the eyes but the heart that I see, 

Sending its message the soul windows through. 

Loving and sweet is that message to me. 

Through eyes that are dark and eyes that are 
blue. 



W^t Bisicontenteb $upp!> 



HERE once was a puppy, that took it 
to heart, 

To think that his head and his tail 
were apart. 

So he sought to bring them together. 

Philosopher-Hke he thought the thing out, 

It could surely be done by turning about, 

And so, he would bring them together. 




He turned himself 'round like a pig in a fit, 
But it helped the matter never a bit, 

His tail, it hung behind him. 
And still he turns, forevermore, 
And his tail it hangs where it hung before, 

His tail still hangs behind him. 



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5?efore a (grate jFire 




O you suppose that anyone knows. 
How many ills, how many woes, 
Are put to flight, like an army of foes, 
When we sit in our armchair and 
toast our toes ? 



With tired body in sweet repose. 

Through every vein the warm blood flows. 

Bringing content wherever it goes. 

While we sit in our armchair and toast our toes. 



But the time will come when you and I 
Have drained the cup of vitality dry, 
Then the blood is thin, but it faster flows. 
When we sit in our armchair and toast our toes. 



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COf this edition of "My Dreams," by John 
Mather Dolph, one hundred copies were printed, 
of which this is Number ^ Q . 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
^^y 23 191 f 



ftiAY 23 fan 



